Operation: JUSTICE, the Remake!
by Trickquestion Electric Boogalo
Summary: When the evil children of the world form a vast conspiracy, the KND faces war for every direction. These children speak of replacing an obsolete Kids Next Door, but what do they really want? New allies must be found if the war for the future is to be won. This is Op: JUSTICE, remade with corrections and additional content. See my profile page for details.
1. Chapter 1

Codename Kids Next Door

Operation: J.U.S.T.I.C.E.

Just

Us

Style

Thinking

Increases

Child

Enemies

…...

It began in the dark of the night, a night of complete darkness, where even the strongest of the moon's reflected rays are smothered above the oppressive cover of thick clouds. Contributing further is the absence of electric lighting from any of the homes populating this suburban neighborhood, the families having long since retreated to bed. Even the centerpiece of this community, a massive scrapyard military construction that every somehow ignores, sits quiet and without light. The operatives of KND Sector V have tactically withdrawn to dreamland, leaving the only the structure's automated security awake and alert, and systems like that require no light perceive their surroundings.

What they do need, however, is unobstructed visual sensors, a luxury many of the tree house's cameras came to find themselves lacking. The electronic sentinels guarding a path of hallways connecting the command center's sooper computer to an inconspicuous supply closet, notable only for it's position on the very edge of the complex, one of it's walls consisting entirely of the tree house's wooden superstructure, are gradually going dark, their digital eyes obstructed by expertly fired spitballs.

Moving along this trail is a posse dressed in black, school children equipped for stealth. The majority of them are slim figured hall monitors, dressed in black shorts and short sleeved shirts, with a sash of orange designating them as officers of (often corrupt) playground law. Their leader is a significantly fatter child of the same age, wearing a black cowboy hat, along with a wrap around matching cloak. This individual is James Nixon McGarfield, a kid who once held all of Gallagher Elementary in his grip, but now finds himself a fugitive, being hunted by both the overwhelming majority of the hall monitors, and the worldwide network of kid soldiers who own the base he is now infiltrating. As his henchmen clear the path ahead, creeping in the shadows and before seizing the opportunity to spitball blind the next camera in their path, James reflects on how he got to his position, slinking around a base at night like a common burglar.

It had begun as just another day in the life of a permanent detention student. During the week, Jimmy was taken from KND arctic prison back to the school he once ruled, to receive his education under lock, key, and armed guard. He and his fellow inmate were brought to class every day in a literal chain gang, lead, followed and flanked by hall monitors, all clad in matching stark white uniforms. Something different happened that day however. Another monitor was waiting for him outside the iron, deadbolt spammed door he was usually sealed behind for the day. This monitor stated the convicts were had been granted a single day of computer lab, and that he would lead them their room. The sudden change took the guard by surprise, but the new guy informed them security in the lab had been tripled for this visit.

He was not kidding. Though the computer lab lacked the structural reinforcements that made the usual room escape-proof were compensate for with manpower. Armed hall monitors lined the walls, and the occasional tip tap from above confirmed personnel were on the roof.

The detentionaires were show seats at desks equipped with personal computers, and instructed to begin. Most immediately began goofing off, but Jimmy reluctantly plugged away at the assignment in front of him, mechanically tapping keys with incredible boredom, holding his chin in his hand. The only thing in the room that improved his mood was the occasional glimpse over at Anna Worthington, his beloved.

What a fool he had been, Jimmy lamented into between their quick glances at one another, intentionally cut short to avoid the notice of the guards. He threw his entire empire away in an attempt to force a girl to love him, when a beautiful, reciprocating girl had been beside him all along. And so it went: monotonous typing punctuated by a look at love. About an hour in though, something changed.

Jimmy's screen suddenly, and without provocation, became a solid, dull green. He glanced around the room in confusion, and pondered alerting a guard, when his attention was captured by the sudden appearance of stark white words.

-**WHEN THE CHUGGA CHUGGA CHOOS, DUCK. OPEN DRAWER WITH 1-1-1. REST WILL BE OBVIOUS-**

This confused Jimmy greatly, and he began discreetly scanning the room to see if anyone else was reacting to an odd screen message. The only one who caught his eye was Anna, who's face had taken on the adorably serious look she got whenever she was thinking about something.

Jimmy's mind began to linger on the subject of his girlfriend, when a shrill steam whistle cut through the air. Jimmy recognized it as the sound made by the school train, but it's the middle of day, why is it running now?

That's when the answer hit Jimmy, Jimmy, Anna, and a number of hall monitors hit the floor, and a maelstrom of gumball fire, ejected from a line of gatling launchers attached to a hi-jacked train, hit the room.

As you can imagine, chaos erupted immediately. Jimmy couldn't see a lot of it from his spot on the floor, but as he pulled himself from the dust, he found his nose in contact with a metal padlock, keeping sealed the sole drawer on the desk.

"Ah. A precaution against mah larcenous fellow incarcerates." Jimmy mused to himself. Remembering the combo the computer displayed, the deposed president began spinning the lock, and watched it clank on the floor in short order, the sound of weapon discharges still filling the air. Sliding the drawer open, Jimmy Nixon found the storage space occupied with a sleek black pistol, with a glowing red line running down the top of the barrel, betraying its status as an energy weapon. The prisoner clutched the ray gun, and popped his head up to observe to conflict.

The train-by barrage had generated a huge deal of confusion, but had injured relatively few individuals, even disregarding the fact that a few monitors had known it was coming and hit the deck. These pre-warned officers of the law betrayed their oaths a moment later, and drew weapons on their more loyal comrades, creating the fire fight that now consumed the room.

Jimmy scanned the area, observing the blistering exchange of water ballons, high speed gumballs, and hurled crayon. A few surprised officers managed to barricade themselves behind a set of desks, and are now drawing the largest concentration of fire in the room. The remaining loyalists are remain caught in the open, ducking and weaving to avoid fire, and in some cases, fending off revenge seeking, unarmed prisoners, many of which were bullies prying their usual tricks. The turncoats were largely hanging on the wall, methodically hosing down the biggest threat. Though they are far outnumbered, the element of surprise has given the traitors the advantage.

Jimmy scanned this scene of conflict until his eyes meet Ana's, who was now also gripping a laser pistol. Both their heads spun however, when a flash of movement caught their eyes. A single hall monitor of the traitor allegiance, distinguished only from his fellows by his dark brown hair, had burst into action, sprinting from his position on the wall and making a standing leap into the air. His flying body spun in midair, allowing him to swat down an incoming gumball with his ruler hand weapon. He landed on a desk in-between the president and first lady, then dexterously drew a red crayon from his pocket, and jammed it into the shirt of a hall monitor using the desk for cover. The crayon smooshed on impact, coating his shirt with the color red.

"Awh man, my awesome black shirt is ruined! It was so cool oh oh oooool!" The officer lamented before he dropped his weapon and began crying. The attacking monitor motioned to the two to follow him, and smelling freedom, they did. The elite officer cut a swath across the room, jumping and leaping across enemy agents and rioting prisoners, cleaving weapons in twain with his telescopic ruler, as ammunition continued to fill the air. The less agile Jimmy and Anna followed his path protecting each other with blinding red blasts. When the three reached the front of the room, the ninja-like hall monitor motioned for them to get behind him, as a few guard noticed how close the trio was to escaping, and focused fire on them. The nameless agent began twirling his ruler like a propeller, intercepting the incoming shots. After a few seconds, the door flew open, and a hunched over old janitor with a scraggly beard burst in, pushing a cleaning cart. With breaking focus, the elite monitor kicked the presidential couple, propelling them backwards into the cargo space of the cleaning cart, where they can sit concealed by a hanging tarp.

The janitor, unfazed by his sudden addition of cargo, quickly turned tail and fled, hurrying his cart down the school halls, only slowing down when the sound of battle finally faded. At that point, the janitor straightened his back, pulled down his broom bristle beard, and whispered to his partners in a surfer accent "No worries dude and dudette, we're in the clear." He spoke true, and the two were carted all the way to freedom.

His memory of the chaotic escape recounted, Jimmy Nixon returned to the reality of the mission, alongside the hall monitors who freed him, and the girlfriend who stood by him. The just mentioned school crew had reached their objective while the president was remembering, and now found themselves before the computer hub of Sector V. Anna took a position in front of the computer, and readied a flash drive she had in her pocket, ready to get to work.

From the empty streets below, and single dull light could now be seen from a single room on the tree-house. After about fifteen minutes, a light across the building flicked on, a bright yellow glow. More and more light flicked on in a trail, as Hoagie Gilligan, AKA Numbah 2, made a late night trip to a restroom. In his sleep deprived state, Numbah 2 was unaware he was being watched, simply mumbled "No more late night chilli dogs."

"Sir, Hoagie Gilligan appears to be awake, and is heading in our direction." A hall monitor reported from his spot in front of one of the room's many screens.

"Anna, how much longer do you need?" Jimmy asked.

The glow of the electronic screen projected a harsh shine across he glasses, obscuring her eyes. "Another eight minutes Jimmy. Then all their secrets will be ours."

Out in the hallway, Numbah 2 absentmindedly shambled past the door to the computer room, oblivious to the glow emitting from beneath the door. A minute after passing it, a significantly more alert Numbah 2 returned to the door, in order to investigate the disturbance. Abruptly, the doors swung open, and the team's mechanic and pilot was greeted with the sight of the class president he had once fought for, and his sashed guards. "Jimmy Nixon? What are you doing here? In fact, how are you even here?"

"Ah Hoagie Gilligan, the Safety Squad's renegade ace." Jimmy spoke slowly, standing in the center of his squad, gripping his can horizontally. "I reckon you're just in time for my after school special!" On that cue, the hall monitors surged forward on the attack. Numbah 2 put up a decent fight, managing to throw the first one to reach him a solid distance, but between his numerical disadvantage and his relative lack of skill in hand to hand combat, he was quickly overwhelmed. Before the butt kicking could get to fierce though, Anna sprinted out of the computer room, clutching a flash drive for dear life. "I got it Jimmy, lets get out of here!" Numbah 2 found himself laying on the floor, alone and only mildly bruised following the interrupted battle shortly after.

The presidential committee sprinted down the way they came in at full speed, throwing stealth to the wind. Soon after, the base's alarms begin blaring, and all the rooms were bathed in an emergency red light. Things seemed bad for the intruders when blast doors began sealing and turrets emerged from the walls, but Anna, still running, pulled a PDA from her pocket and triggered the dormant virus she had inserted into the tree house computer during her time inside it. The defenses went on the fritz soon after, turrets firing irregularly and blast door remaining only half closed. Full haywire confusion proved easier to avoid then computer focused functionality, and soon, they could see the open door to the closet they cut their way into. However, an obstruction was present that they had not encountered on the way in.

Numbah 5.

The Sector V second in command was armed with a weapon in each hand: A M.U.S.K.E.T. and a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R. Her first move was to fire the long range M.U.S.K.E.T. at on the oncoming group, hitting one hall monitor square in the chest, knocking him off his feet, and forcing to of his comrades to stop and pick him up.

Sensing a challenge, the monitor with the brown hair jumped against the wall while drawing his telescopic ruler, beginning to spin the improvised weapon while performing a perfect wall run. He made another jump, his position on the wall causing it to be horizontal rather then vertical, and brought the spinning stick down directly upon Numbah 5. The operative moved her ranged weapon into the line of danger, allowing her to block the blow, at the coast of the weapon shattering. Now armed with only a S.P.L.A.N.K.E.R., Numbah 5 stared her enemy down. After a split second of sizing up, the two struck each other at lightning speed, both opting for a kick, resulting in two legs slamming into and exerting against one another, leaving the two stuck with a leg each flung in the air. They both withdrew from the crossup at the same time. Numbah 5 ducked low to deliver a sweeping kick, while the hall monitor jumped up a kicked forward, into the empty space his enemies' head once occupied. When the monitor returned to earth, Numbah 5 sprung up and buried her fist in his gut. The enemy flinched, but still had enough wits about him to throw his arms around the assaulting arm, trapping it between the upper right and lower left. He then used this leverage to flip the operative onto the ground, where he then pinned her with his foot to her chest.

The skilled monitor took a moment to check on his companions, seeing that the rest of them had run past the battle unopposed, and had reached the exit they had made. They were already climbing out the hole they had cut in the wall to reach the open air outside. Anna and the other monitors had activated rocket shoes to make a safe descent, while Jimmy had extended his cape, turning it into a parachute.

This brief distraction was all 5 needed however, as she was able to flip the lower half of her body up, grab the boy pinning her to the ground with his foot with her legs, and throw him across the room. His face was smashed against the wall, and when the hall monitor picked himself up to face his opponent, his sunglasses had one lens cracked, exposing a green eye to his opponent. The hall monitor cast a quick aside glance to confirm his allies had escaped, as a split second later, Numbah 5 was on the attack, pushing him back with a flurry of kicks and punches. Knowing he could not win, and catching the rest of Sector V, fully armed, storming down the hallway, this elite agent tipped back on the edge of his heels, and activated his jet shoes, putting a great distance between him and his opponent in a single second. He was able to use this sudden advantage to scramble to the improvised exit, falling into the night just as Numbah 5's hand shot through the gap, the scruff of his shirt just escaping his next. Numbahs 1-3, dressed and armed, joined her at the opening a second later, able to watch the skilled fighter, drop in through the roof hatch, into a school bus parked below.

As the bus begins priming its engines, Numbah 4, still sleepy eyed and pajama clad, came up behind the group. "'Ey mates, what's with all the noise? It's two in the cruddy morning."

Down below, the roof hatch of the bus was sealed shut as the bus finally gained speed and pulled away. Behind the wheel is Joe Balooka, who is currently disturbing the peace by incessantly blaring the bus horn while burning rubber. In the passenger end of the bus, Jimmy lays a reassuring hand on his girlfriend's shoulder. "You've done good work darling. The KND tree-houses hold no secrets to us."

"They're on us sir! Direct Six O'Clock!" A hall monitor near the back of the bus yelled out, having spotted on oncoming KND armored vehicle pursuing them. Numbah 2 was at the wheel, and got the vehicle moving fast enough to hit their back bumper with a decent force ram.

"That's why they call me pharaoh!" Numbah 2 exclaimed. After a short pause, he added on. "You know, because Ram-ses..."

"Numbah 5 got it, that's why Numbah 5 ain't laughing! Just stay on them!" she exclaimed from her seat in the passenger section. Shortly after, the back door of the school bus flung open, revealing a tripod mounted automatic weapon, built from vacuum cleaners and chain feed water balloons, and operated by the first lady. Numbah 2 dodged and weaved to avoid the incoming hail of water balloons, but one eventually struck home and destroyed the front right wheel. The ace pilot lost control of the vehicle, but as he spun off course, Hoagie brought the armored transport around and slammed it into the front of the bus, resulting in both vehicles spinning out in a huge accident.

Being in the smaller, less resilient vehicle, Sector V took the worst of the damage, and came too after the president, his first lady, his main henchman and his driver, but before the smattering of ordinary hall monitors. A quick survey of the situation revealed the vehicles crashed just outside a stuffed animal cemetery, and footprints in the mud indicated the intruders took off into it.

"Kids Next Door, form up and move out!"


	2. Chapter 2

The five kid team moved cautiously through the toy cemetery, keeping weapons drawn and staying in a tight formation, keeping at least one operative looking in every direction. Heavy fog seemed to permeate the burial ground, on top of the darkness of the night, making this the prime spot for a sneak attack.

Numbah 1 was hoping the intruders would try to utilize the cover to sneak back to the exit and run away, as before entering the hallowed ground, he had his team set up gack mines at the only way in or out the cemetery. Anyone trying to flee would find themselves stuck by a slimey green blast.

The dead silence of the night air was suddenly split by the tell tale twang of the rubber band component of a water balloon launcher. The team broke formation, jumping in five different directions. Thanks to this evasive maneuver, the water balloon pops harmlessly on an empty patch of earth. As a consequence though, no operative could see the other through the thick fog. All tried to verbally signal their comrades, but sound seemed to disappear into the dark fog. Reluctantly, and more then a little bit spooked, the five held their weapons and set off to find the rest of the team, unaware that they were all headed in different directions.

And that they were being watched.

Numbah 2, tightly gripping a soda bottle laser, opted to try and find his way back to the car, planning to jury rig some illumination out of the headlights of the crashed vehicles, in order to shed some light on this situation. "Heh, shed some light. That's a good one. I gotta remember to say that when I find the others."

This punny rumination proved an obvious opportunity for the shooter, and another water balloon came homing in on Numbah 2. Fortunately, the thick fog obscured the attacker's view, causing the projectile to splash harmlessly across the operative's back, far away from his eyes. In response, Numbah 2 rolled through the dirt, diluting the pinkeye water with graveyard soil, and fired off a laser burst in the general direction of the attack.

The telltale sizzle of laser going through wood was heard, followed by the noise of someone being struck in the head with a tree branch. Numbah 2 advanced through the darkness, and quickly came across a kid in a trench coat and fedora, getting back to his feet after a branch from a gnarled tree crashed into his head. Numbah 2 recognized the kid as his partner for his pre-KND days, Joe Balooka.

"You've really let yourself sink this low, huh Joe? Just a common thief now?" Numbah 2 asked disdainfully as he approached his old partner, who had lost his weapon during his fall.

"I reckon I'm still a detective, and a fine one at that, since I've managed to uncover the collective secrets of the KND." Joe responded, keeping his eyes trained on Numbah 2. Joe's got a squirt pistol loaded with the pinkeye formula, and if he can just get Gilligan to drop his guard for a split second... "You spend all your time on base putting on weight, Gilligan? Your security was easier to cut through then a second grade pillow fort." Joe mocked, while thinking to himself _"Just got to get him angry enough that he loses his cool._"

"Good try Joe, but I can tell you're trying to throw me off so you can quick draw the water pistol you got in your coat." Numbah 2 stated drolly. "We worked together Joe, I know your tricks." The aviator quickly closed the distance, searched Joe for all his weapons, and appropriated them into his own pockets.

"You sure about that Gilligan?" Joe asked rhetorically. Before his captor could respond, the sound of earth shifting and breaking filled the air. The patch of fog directly in front of the two suddenly and dramatically parted, revealing a hoard of animated stuffed animal zombies rising from their graves. Rainbow Monkeys, Sassy Cat Dolls, Pretty Princess Unicorns and more, all lurching in Numbah 2's direction, stuffing hanging loose, tissue torn and stained with dirt. The pilot felt fear immediately fill his soul, and faced with such overwhelming, undead odds, opted to run screaming into the night. Joe took stock of the assembled zombie hoard, and despite having been to told they're on his side, opted to beat a hasty retreat away from them.

Elsewhere in the graveyard, Numbah 4 is stamping across the earth, unaware of the walking dead not too far away from him. He was just rousing to give this cruddy band of dork a beating, and a few moments later, he got his opportunity.

The hall monitor who had crossed Numbah 5 snuck up on Wally, gripping his ruler hand weapon with both hands, one on each end, and lifted the measurement tool over his unaware opponents head in order to pull it back against his throat.

Although surprised by his sudden difficulty breathing, Numbah 4 quickly recovered his senses and struck back, snapping his head backwards, slamming it into the face of his attacker. The hall monitor was dazed by this, unable to respond to the close combat expert reaching over his shoulder, grabbing his arm, and hurling him through the foggy air. The monitor's flight was broken against a headstone, which took a few cracks from the impact.

The thrown boy quickly got on his feet, just in time for Numbah 4 to advance on him with a flurry of punches. Every last one of the heavy punches failed to connect though, as hall monitor nimbly ducked and weaved out of the path of all of them. Eventually, the opportunity for a counter attack presented itself, and the hall monitor shoved his fist through the hole in Numbah 4's assault, landing him square in the face. A few more hits followed, until Numbah 4 took his turn to break a combo, and caught the incoming fist with his open palm.

With lightning reflexes, the elite monitor turned this to his advantage, grabbing the outstretched arm with his free hand, giving him the grip to throw Numbah 4 a short distance. He landed right next to the cracked and jarred headstone he had previously thrown his opponent into. Speaking of which, the little git was trying to bugger off, beginning a retreat into the shadows, hoping to gain another sneak attack by vanishing from sight. "Oh no you don't." Wally muttered as he ripped the head stone from the earth, gripped it firm, spun around a few times to build speed, and let it go in his enemy's direction. A solid "thunk" sound confirmed that Numbah 4 hit his target, and once he stopped spinning, the operative visually confirmed this fact.

"Thought yeh could tangle with Wally Beatles, did ya? Well, you thought wrong!" He boasted, before moving forward to restrain the downed hall monitor. However, the spin build up to that throw left him very dizzy, and after one step, Numbah 4 faceplanted into the soil below. "I'll get ya in a minute."

The rest of the team had not found anyone or anything in their search, as all the other villains had successfully retreated to a large mausoleum, inside of which was a secret passage, and at the end of the passage was a twisted laboratory.

The lab was full of terrifying equipment for operating on discarded stuffed toys: Needle point sewing machines, centrifuges for warping fluff puffs, and a seemingly endless number of glass tanks of all sides, inside of which floated all manner of desecrated stuffed animals in suspension. Along the walls of this room are tunnels dug into the surrounding earth, through which the graves are accessed, and stuffed animals stolen, so they may be experimented on here. What manner of person could feel the kind of chronic and sustained cruelty necessary to operate such a shop of horror?

"Well hello there everybody! You guys have fun on the mission?"

The sole scientist of this lab is Mushi Sanban, and while she is physically is the spitting image of her kind sister at a younger age, on the inside, she's rotten to the core. When her teammates dropped in on her, she was wearing a starch white oversized sweater and giant goggles, and was in the midst of some vital research. "Now that we're all here, maybe one of you can tell me why I was ordered to activate the re-animation wave before it was fully tested?"

"I take responsibility for that." Stated Anna. "I found Joe facing capture by Numbah 2 a short distance away from the secret entrance to this facility. I had lost my weapon in the crash, but I did remember the demonstration from a week ago, where the prototype animator brought to life the toys in a small radius around the lab." she explained. "I didn't feel confident engaging him up close, so I figured that some zombies would scare him off."

"And scare them they did, toots!" Joe added on. "I even began to feel the touch of fear myself, but fortunately, I kept my cool." Anna rolled her eyes at this, as Joe had spent a whole minute rocking back and forth trying to compose himself.

"YOU DUMMIES!" Mushi shouted in a rage, fire in her eyes. "NOW THAT THE KIDS NEXT DUMB HAVE SEEN THE ZOMBIES, THEY'LL COME BACK TO INVESTIGATE! I'LL HAVE TO DESTROY THIS ENTIRE LAB!" She then let out a growl of frustration before beginning the task of gathering together all the notes she could take with her, through the escape tunnel on the other side of the lab. That tunnel led to a door that only opens from the inside, when opened drops the user into the city sewers before closing behind them, and becoming just another ordinary section of concrete. Waiting at this particular stretch of sewer, beneath the foul water that runs along the concrete paths extending from both walls, sits a medium sized submarine, capable of transporting a maximum of twelve (cramped) people through the sewer and out into the open ocean.

With Mushi throwing a tantrum and muttering to herself in the background, Joe turned to the rest of his group. "Well, hey, this might be scrapped, but at least none of us got captured."

Later at the tree house, Numbah 2 stepped out of the interrogation room, after a full twenty minutes of grilling the hall monitor they captured. A short while after the pilot had been chased by the undead, the re-animated stuffed animals abruptly stopped moving and crumbled to dust. Shortly after that, the fog suddenly lifted, allowing the five members of Sector V to locate one another, as well as see the hall monitor Numbah 4 had over his shoulder. A coordinated search of the graveyard located none of the intruders. The hall monitors who remained in the crash seemed to have revived and fled, leaving Numbah 4's catch as the only result of their chase. After a call to Moonbase to send some experts to research the zombies, the team set to work grilling the target.

Despite their best efforts though, the enemy agent remained eerily stiff and silent. "I've never seen anything like it chief." Numbah 2 reported, past the sound proof walls and one way mirror that keeps him from them. "He's completely locked up."

Numbah 1 didn't respond, instead intensely scrutinizing the vacant stare of his prisoner. He knows he's witnessed something like this before.

"He might be stiff as a board now, but this guy had some moves during the break in. "Numbah 5 chimed in. "He's had training. Good training to, but not a lot of experience. Question is, who gave it to him?"

On the other side of the city, where the sand meets the waves under the slowly brightening sky, the escape sub from the sewer sailed through an underwater tunnel, before surfacing inside of a towering sand castle, at a submarine dock constructed wholly from sand. Mushi was the first to come up through the hatch, merrily skipping into the depths of the fortress, while the others climbed out in a slower, more weary fashion. They had already confirmed over radio that their other henchmen had fled the wreck and returned here, so there was no justification for putting off a report to their boss.

The team entered the meeting room, which consisted of a massive round table of sand, overlooked by a gigantic screen, who's inner mechanics were somehow not impaired by the huge quantities of sand present. Already seated is a young child with a bucket on his head.

"Ah, my beautiful queen, as well as the lowly sheriff and prime minister, have returned!" exclaimed King Sandy as the others took their seats. Mushi blushed, but the others simply rolled their eyes. King Sandy was a lot to put up with, but the sand castle was a top notch base of operation.

"Since all absences are accounted for, I think we'd best report in." Jimmy stated somewhat nervously. Anna pressed a big yellow button on a remote, causing the screen to crackle to life. They were greeted by a figure obscured by darkness, with a voice mechanically distorted.

"Report."

"We have captured the data you requested, master." Jimmy began. "We're transmitting you the data now, but it's all encrypted." He continued as Anna plugged the flash drive into the screen."

"That will not be a problem. Any complications?"

"One of our guys got grabbed by the KND during the mission. They've certainly taken him back to their base by now." Joe stated, hoping to appear less guilty by speaking first. The voice seemed unconcerned.

"He won't talk." It stated matter of factly.

"Oh. That' good, I guess. We uh, also had to self destruct the laboratory under the stuffed pet cemetery. The KND were going to discover it."

"Supplies to construct a new lab in the sand castle will arrive shortly, as well as test subjects. You will make up for this failure by producing results. Are we clear, Sanban?"

"You got it, scary screen person!"

"We will begin Stage Two in two and a half weeks. I want a functional re-animator by the time we begin Stage Three." The transmission abruptly ended, leaving the conspiracy members to contemplate what exactly they had gotten into.


	3. Chapter 3

The midnight attack on Sector V's treehouse proved to be the first strike in a global surge of child villain activity. All across the globe, groups of children with no known connection to the Kids Next Door, and armed with high tech weapons, struck high value targets in smash and grab operation. These mysterious children, whose equipment was notably sleeker then the cobbled together 2x4 technology of the KND, strike rapidly and efficiently. Their vehicles, coming by air, ground, and even from beneath the earth, would smash down defenses with mounted weapons and sometimes full contact charges, before disgorging troops into the confusion. These troops, among which significant numbers of robots have been counted, pacify any remaining resistance before grabbing all they can carry, then leave as rapidly as they came. These attacks have targeted adult and kid facilities alike. While most of these raids were carried out by faceless operatives, and few featured more notable perpetrators.

Somewhere in an American suburb, a colossal pirate ship is inexplicably hauling itself across land, hundreds of miles from open water. This is the _Sweet Revenge, _flagship of the dreaded Stickybeard, a wandering pirate of sugary treats. Abruptly, the ship lurches to a sudden stop, causing many of the pirates on deck to topple down. An irate Stickybeard burst from his captain's cabin to see what was amiss. "WHO DARES IMPEDE THE SUGAR COATED QUEST, OF THE DREAD PIRATE STICKYBEARD!?" He screamed at no one in particular.

"Looks like we're stuck captain. Run aground on a railroad." One pirate responded from the starboard side of the ship, looking over to see the ship was indeed atop a railroad track.

"Rappel down and pry us loose then, before our whole boat is scuttled by an oncoming train!" The captain ordered, and several pirates used sticky taffy ropes to quickly travel down the ship's hull, and began working to free the mighty vessel. Up on deck, Stickybeard began pacing nervously. "Don't like the looks of this. Never had a problem with rail lines before. This whole thing smells worse then three day old gummy fish. Everyone not getting us loose man the cannons!"

Stickybeard's preparations accomplished little however, as the attack he anticipated ultimately came from the sky: A team of cowboy children riding rocket rocking horses and holding gum spitting revolvers. "YEEEEE HAAAAWWWHHH! THE SIX GUM GANG RIDES AGAIN!" Cheered the leader of the group, waving his over-sized hat in the air as they strafed the pirates. The cannons aren't positioned to fire directly into the air, leaving the pirates defenseless. They scrambled to find ranged weapons capable of hitting the high flying cowpokes, but more and more of them found themselves fused to the deck by a well placed, sticky projectile.

Stickybeard himself remained defiant, swatting away incoming gum wads with his candy cane sword while steadying a blunderbuss. His uncovered eye watched the sky carefully, tracking the tiny aircraft, learning their patterns. Then, a powerful bang split the air, and a cloud of solid gumballs shot into the path of the tall, thin robber. His rocket horse was shredded by the cloud, and began to plummet. The falling bandit was caught by his large comrade. The extra wait made it difficult to move the flying vehicle, and both watched nervously as Stickybeard poured a bag of gumballs into his weapon. Before he fired again though, everyone's attention was caught by a loud steam whistle.

The School Train that had previously been hijacked and used to break out the disgraced president was now barreling down the tracks towards the pirate ship. The pirates watched in horror as the steam engine collided with the timber hull, shattering the wooden barrier, and allowing the train to surge to a stop inside the sugar soaked cargo bay of the _Sweet Revenge. _"WE'VE BEEN BOARDED!" screamed Stickybeard. "ALL HANDS BELOW DECK!"

The captain lead the charge down the stairs, while the gum splattered crew did their best to follow. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Stickybeard became aware that the battering train had been carrying a crew of kid agents, wearing outfits that clearly indicated they were not KND agents. The orange and black vests, striped pants, bandoleers and dark sunglasses they were all wearing were too uniform and too... adult for rag tag band of kid fighters Stickybeard was used to fighting.

Not that that made much of a difference to the sugary sea pirate, who fired upon pack of children with his gumball blunderbuss as soon as he cleared the stairs. A few managed to dive into the almost liquid trove of candy that made up the ship's cargo, but most were hurled by the projectile crowd. One had the creativity to grab the gumballs that had been lodged into his vest on impact and toss them in the burlap sack he was using to steal the pirate's treasure.

A few of the robbers began returning fire with their high tech laser guns. Stickybeard calmly and confidently strode through the crimson beams, a man on a mission, reloading his blunderbuss. His single-minded focus on this group of thieves made him forget the group of thieves that had attacked from the air. Shortly after Stickybeard charged below deck, the Six Gum Gang stuck down the rest of the crew, landed their horses, and ran to catch the captain. The candy pirate was swiftly immobilized by a gum barrage from behind.

"I guess this settles the ol' Pirates versus Cowboys debate once and fer all, eh fellas!" The leader of the robber band exclaimed, earning a round of cheering and hat waving from his compatriots.

"Ay, ye bested me at me own candy stealing game." Congratulated Stickybeard from his spot on the floor. "But ye'd best sleep with one eye open from here on out, cause ol Stickybeard will get his candy back, mark my words!"

"Put a cork in it old man, or better yet, some gum!" The bandit leader shouted back, firing a wad of gum onto the pirate's lips to silence him. "World's got no place for old timers like you anymore."

With the crew put out of action by the concentrated gum assault, the crew of the train were free to load Stickybeard's vast hoard of sweets onto their train. When they were finished, the train fired back up, and plowed through the opposite side of the ship, leaving it stuck on a rail line with a gummed up crew, two massive punctures, and an empty cargo hold.

* * *

A great deal of distance, but only a short amount of time later, a garishly painted contraption rolls and rickets down a modern paved road. The thing resembles a horse drawn carriage, but is easily the size of a semi truck. The vehicle's method of propulsion is equally bizarre: A pair of massive, obviously mechanical horses that have been unevenly coated with splotchy purple paint, excessively bedazzled, and jammed in the forehead with a slowly melting ice cream cone. The wagon was decorated just as badly itself, splotchy paint and flaking gold letters giving the impression that someone had tried and failed to project a sense of wonder and whimsy on a budget.

The aforementioned gold letters spelled out the following: **EDDY'S E'MAZING E'MUSEMENT E'RDROME!  
**

At the front of the bizarre contraption rides four boys: Three of them well known to each other, and one outsider.

"Eddy, people are going to realize "Airdrome" isn't the correct word for this sort of instillation, your creative spelling notwithstanding." Spoke up a skinny boy in an odd black hat.

"Don't worry 'bout it Double D, rubes love alliteration." Answered a short boy with only three strings of hair to his head. After, he snapped the reigns connecting the cart to the robot unicorns, letting out a "YEE-HAW!", despite the fact this has no impact on the mechanical creatures. "Don't you think so, tie-boy?"

The stranger to the group is a serious looking child in a miniature business suit adorned with a prominent tie. "This is YOUR mission, Edwin. Do whatever you think will accomplish the objective, but keep in mind your membership hinges on success."

"It's um, actually Edward..." corrected Double D, but he was interrupted when Eddy shouted over to the final member of the group. "You like how it's spelled, don't you Ed? Come on, back me up man."

"We should really be wearing sheep skin seat belts right now Eddy." Came the reply from a large, smelly boy with a blank expression, seated on the far side of the carriage, at Windsor's insistence.

Before anyone could put together a response to that surprisingly coherent statement, the carriage came to a sudden stop, causing Eddy to tumble out of the driver's seat, bonk his head on the robot horse's metal haunch, and face plant into some dirt. Ed followed his friend down with a belly flop onto solid earth, as Double D slowly and cautiously climbed down the side, shaking slightly from a fear of falling. Windsor, after detaching the robot unicorns, did a curt, economically hop over the side, intentionally jumping from a stop that would deposit him on Eddy's back, eliciting a groan of pain from the schemer as he pulled himself up.

The three boys went about readying the great construct for its true function, Windsor watching with a snear on his face. He took a moment to look across the street, laying eyes upon the odd building that sat there. It was a strange, vertical house, a combination of Victorian architecture with a garish Wonka-esque color scheme. It was also, if Windsor's intelligence reports were accurate, capable of housing many more... things then the outside size would lead you to believe.

Finally, it was ready.

The four of them stood in a line, and with a great deal of flair, Eddy readied a big red button, then slammed it down. In a flash, the massive rectangular crate split open, and unfolded itself in a about a million places. The machines worked swiftly, and in under a minute, a fully sized carnival had been constructed. The robot unicorns took up positions aside the spinning bar gates while the Eds set up a series of stereos focused on the odd house across the street. Eddy stepped up to the mike, and after a few seconds of ear splitting static, began his pitch.

"COME ONE, COME ALL, TO THE HAPPIEST PLACE ON THIS CITY BLOCK! EDDY'S E'MAZING E'MUSEMENT E'RDROME IS IN TOWN THIS WEEKEND ONLY! IMAGINARY FRIENDS GET FREE ATTENDANCE!"

After that, things were quite. Then, a low rumbling could be heard. In a moment, a horde of impossible creatures came stampeding from the house across the street. Small creatures, big creatures, rainbow creatures and gray creatures. Ones with many legs and many arms, some furry, some funny, some sunny, and some trapped in the crippling downward spiral of abandonment induced depression. They came pouring in, one and all, to an offer they should have realized was too good to be true.

Eddy stood outside the unused ticket booth, throwing out greetings to any friend that caught his eye. "Mind the door ways, tall guy. Don't go and get that eye poked, buddy. How's the weather up there, big guy? Hey, haven't I seen you on TV...?" While that was happening, Windsor sat inside the ticket booth, watching a digital number gradually increase, waiting for it to indicate they'd got them all.

The crowd was rapid, moving more like an oncoming wave then an eager crowd. In minutes they had rushed through the gates and begun utilizing the fair attractions. Windsor nodded to the Eds, and they joined him inside the ticket booth. With a few clicks on a keyboard, the carnival began to rumble again.

Just as quickly as it had deployed, the traveling carnival folded back into a box, this time minus the massive wheels and drivers seat that made it resemble a carriage. After a few seconds of being nothing but a solid red crate, a tiny helicopter blade emerged from the top of the technological prison, and propelled the thing into the sky, flying off into the sunset with the captured friends.

Across the street, their caretaker had only recently recovered from the unexpected stampede and staggered her way out the door to see what all the fuss was about, and was now standing slackjawed at what she had just witnessed. The silence was broken by the sound of tiny sneaker wearing feet running across concrete.

"Hey Frankie! I'm not late or anything am I?" The boy got no response. "You there Frankie?"

The redhead simply sighed and gestured for the boy to follow her. "Come on Mac, I gotta explain this to Herriman. Then, we got work to do."

* * *

Two nights after the raid on Sector V, a similar occurrence is underway at an Oregon penitentiary. A jet black aircraft designed for stealth hover silently against the night sky, undetectable by the naked eye or standard sensory equipment. From this aircraft rappel down a team of what can only be described as ninjas. Upon reaching the roof of the prison, they quickly slice through the reinforced material with a powerful and quiet laser drill.

The ninjas dropped into the cell block silently. Most rushed off in various directions to subdue any night guards, but a trio of them stayed together, moving with purpose to one specific cell, holding one specific prisoner. It was past the common cells holding the common criminals. Blocking the way was a steel door with a computer lock. The laser drill would need time to remove it, time that the rest of the team was securing.

By the time a serviceable hole had been cut in the steel plate, the prisoner had been awoken by the smell of smoldering metal. He greeted his guests with a cold but curious stare.

The lead ninja stepped forward and offered a gloved hand. "Mr. Gleeful, you've received a pardon."

* * *

It was a quite night on the Sugar Lane, the informal name for the long road the KND truck pressurized 2x4 tankers of soda down. A lot of truckers were too scared to make the trip anymore, but not Numbah US-1, top mover (but not shaker: excessive shaking could cause the whole truck to burst!) in the whole Kids Next Door! He gave the Captain Cosmo bubblehead sitting on his truck dashboard a flick before starting up the radio, which was currently playing the world's longest electric banjo solo.

US-1 had started humming along, but the tune sputtered and died on his lips when he noticed a strange light in the distance, seemingly coming over the horizon. He put the brakes on and hit a desktop switch. The truck radio flipped into the paneling, leaving a tactical readout in its place. The 2x4 truck's advanced scanners were focused ahead in the direction of the lights. With all the trucks that had gone missing lately, operatives found napping on the side of the road bereft of cargo, Numbah US-1 was taking no chances.

Scanners quickly confirmed a flying construct was indeed ahead. The driver becomes confident, and primes the truck's surface-to-air rockets, which fired away as soon as the target lock was complete. An airborne explosion and a crash followed, and Numbah US-1 pulled his truck ahead to the wreckage. With a 2x4 pistol in hand, and a radio on his belt, the operative left his truck and began poking around the wreckage. A cursory examination of the wreckage quickly revealed it to be a weather balloon for channel six news.

Numbah US-1 began to whistle nervously after this discovery, changing his mind about telling command about this and hurrying back to his truck.

Too bad his truck was being stolen by a UFO.

While Numbah US-1 was leafing through the wreckage, a flying saucer had positioned itself above his truck, seemingly without sound, and encircled the truck with a cone of green energy, slowly lifting it into the sky. It's driver wouldn't let his truck go without a fight, but his small arms fire proved ineffective against the armored flying vehicle. In less then a minute, the truck had been brought aboard the craft, and it rocketed away into the night.

* * *

Midway through the surge of activity, the increasing crime reached an out of the way community, a place where the endless war of the Kids Next Door seems virtually non-existent, a place where the imagination of children and the daily lives of adults seem to exist side by side. This city is known as Danville.

At the moment, the city's skyline was playing host to the _aurora borealis_, . the Northern Lights... or at least a simulation of them. The source of the brilliant display was not usual collision of solar winds with magnetospheric charged particles, but a machine constructed in a backyard, by children.

The mother of the children, oblivious to the existence of the machine, tells them about a fresh batch of cookies before leaving for a shopping trip. They turn around to walk inside, but three of them suddenly stop.

"Hold up for a second Dinnerbell, I've been meaning to ask about this all day: You got that thing I asked you for?" Asked the largest of the children, a bully in name only named Buford.

"Oh yeah, the pair of microscopic GPS tracking devices? Got them right here!" Replied the boy named Phineas, as his brother Ferb remained silent as usual. His perky smile suddenly dropped into a look of confusion. "Why did you want something like this again?"

"I'll show you right after you tell me how they work."

"Oh, OK!" Phineas stated excitedly, while fetching the previously mentioned invention from across the yard. In his hands was a flash drive and what looked like a roll of band aids. "Simply apply one of these band aids and then peel it off to implant the nano-tracker within the epidermis. A localized dosage of anesthetic makes the whole thing painless." The inventor explained while demonstrating, putting on a band-aid and then removing it without any discomfort. "After that, the reader will light up and you can find the tracker anywhere in the world. That single button near the top will cause all active tracers to shut down and fall off." Lights and sounds from the device confirmed this.

"This is just what I needed Phineas. Thanks." Buford replied, and then abruptly produced a large burlap sack, and bagged the two brothers up in a single overhead swing. He rapidly tied the bag shut, slung it over his shoulder, and began soldering off with it.

A short while later, Buford arrived in his own backyard, where a conspicuous aircraft has touched down. Among the uniformed children milling about is a large child with a lolly-pop hanging in his mouth. The candy on a stick had a noticeable effect on his speech when he greeted the other boy.

"Buford."

"Ernst."

"You got 'em?" Buford's only response was to plant the bag in front of Ernst. The bully in turn responded by loosening it enough to peek inside.

"Hello friend!"

"Yeah, you got them." Ernst stated while tying the bag shut again. "Here's your half of the bargain." He stated while handing Buford a heavy suitcase.

"Pleasure doing business with you." Buford said curtly before turning to leave, as the uniformed kids loaded the bag while boarding the ship themselves.

"Buford, hold up." Ernst called to him. "You sure you don't want to join up with us full time? There'd a lot more where that came from." He said while pointing to the briefcase.

"I left the business a long while ago Ernst. I'm not going back, especially not for the people you're working for."

Ernst scowled. He didn't normally let people say no to him, but he was under strict instructions to do this mission as quietly as possible. "We're going to catch up to you at some point Buford." Ernst muttered as he got aboard his aircraft. "And then you won't have Ernst to help you out."

Back in the backyard this whole affair started in, two kids and a teenager are gradually growing more concerned.

"I always new something like this would happen one day!" A red haired teenager with an improbable neck ranted while pacing. "If they didn't always insist on spending every day building increasingly dangerous gadgets, THEY MIGHT STILL BE HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"OK, Fireside Girl Manual page 692, Missing Persons Search and Rescue." Isabella read out loud. "Locate anyone and everyone the missing person(s) was last with." At that exact moment, Buford walked into the backyard.

"Sup nerds."

"BUFORD! WHERE ARE PHINEAS AND FERB?!" Cadance exclaimed frantically while shaking the stout child.

"I kidnapped them for an international conspiracy of laser gun using children." Buford responded calmly.

"WHAT!"

"But don't worry, I stuck a micro-tracer on Phineas before I bagged them. Now all we need to do is wait for the Kids Next Door to make me an offer for the tracer data, they'll rescue Dinnerbell and and Silent Limey, and I'll have two rewards!" Buford explained confidently.

Baljeet looked nervous at the mention of the KND, while Isabella narrowed her eyes.

"Baljeet, hold my hair bow."

* * *

Such raids continued all over the globe for two and a half weeks. Though they came too rapidly for the KND high command to mount meaningful counter attacks (on top of the fact that the source of the raids remained unknown), the top strategic officers onboard Moonbase worked around the clock to work out a pattern

They eventually came to the conclusion that this is only a skirmish. The raiders have struck in small, fast groups, at comparatively lightly guarded targets. The few heavier facilities (the few treehouses that have been hit) were targeted by infiltration teams instead of assault crews. This lead them to believe that they are dealing with a small (possibly decentralized) and highly mobile faction seeking to strengthen themselves while slowly bleeding the KND dry. They believed the best course of action was to have all intelligence assets focus on discovering their center of operations, then to destroy it in an overwhelming strike they could not resist.

These strategists made a severe underestimation.


	4. Chapter 4

Against the prediction of KND Strategic Command, the world wide child criminal activity only escalated in the following week. The first week consisted heavily of supply grabs and data theft, with less than a handful of kidnappings, and all of the targets were low profile and bereft of KND protection. In the second week, the simple thefts became large scale hijackings, among the most prominent is the disappearance of entire fleets of ice cream trucks. In addition, increasingly high profile child criminals were sighted stalking and kidnapping increasingly heroic figures.

All was not grim though, as the world was now aware that a new threat had emerged, and both the KND and numerous independents were beginning to work against this sinister secret society. These heroes, however, were still stumbling about in the dark, while their enemies have the secrets of several KND Treehouses at their command.

The City of Townsville has so far proven to be the biggest victim of this surge in destruction. The day has been marred by a raging battle between the local heroes, the Powerpuff Girls and their opposite gender adversaries, the Rowdyruff Boys. They started the fight by barreling through the Pre-School roof during nap time, and the brawl has taken all six fighters across the full breadth of the city. The tide of battle suddenly changes however, as the three boys abruptly break off, fly through the glass and steel structure of a nearby skyscraper, and then hover in place on the other side of the building.

"What do you think they're doing Blossom?" asked Bubbles.

"I don't know girls. We should be careful though, this could be some kind of trap..." The sister in red replied.

"Like they're smart enough to set a trap!" sneered Buttercup. "You won't get away from me!" she shouted before rocketing off, full speed ahead.

A cry for help distracted her though. Stopping mid-flight, Buttercup noticed a small girl falling from the recently damaged building. "Don't worry, I got you!" The little girl's oversized purple sweater almost caused Buttercup to loose her grip, but she prevailed and stopped the girl's downward fall.

"Oh, thank you so much Powderpuff girl!" The little asian girl thanked profusely, as Buttercup lowered them both to the ground. "There must be something I can do to thank you!"

"Hey, don't sweat it kid." Buttercup replied as she touched down to the street below, letting the joyous girl out of her grip.

"Oh, but I absoposihavta thank you somehow! And I've got just the thing..." The girl's exuberant smile suddenly turned very malicious, and from the folds of her sweater, produced a sickly green crayon. In a lightning fast motion, she jammed it into Buttercup's uncovered face skin, where the wax smooshed into a thin layer of stick. Buttercup suddenly felt very weak. Her body began to shiver and her knees gave out. "How'd ya like my special Antidote-X crayon? I made it just for you!"

Buttercup's sisters rocketed down out of the air to help her, but were forced back when Mushi suddenly spun like a top and hurled a barrage of Antidote-X crayons at them. Blossom and Bubbles floated outside her throwing range, trying to work out a way to approach and get their sister back, but they only had a second or so of respite before an Antidote-X crayon impacted Bubbles at high speed. The impact caused the wax cylinder to collapse entirely, coating half of Bubble's face in the power draining substance. Suddenly bereft of her powers, the most passive of the super trio fell like a stone.

"BUBBLES!" exclaimed the last Powerpuff standing, before the leader of the quickly forgotten Rowdyruff's hit her from above, driving his elbow into Blossom's back, sending them both flying towards the ground. The ensuing impact left Blossom collapsed in the center of a newly formed crater, as she took the majority of the impact.

Mushi happily strolled over to the smoking crater, and quickly sketched some giant glasses and wavy lines onto Blossom's face with her special crayon. On the street above the crater, the other two Rowdyruffs float back to earth, and Princess Morbucks strolled up to the group with a high powered, scope equipped, gold plated and extremely expensive crayon launcher over her shoulder. Once Mushi and the Rowdyruff leader emerged from the crater, a very special motor vehicle rolled up.

It was a sleek, unassuming truck with a round tank on the back, built in the image of trucks designed to transport dangerous industrial chemicals. The driver's seat is staffed by a robot that, while passing for human in the eyes of a fellow motorist, who usually only spare a second's glance while attempting to navigate the open road, is obviously mechanical on close examination.

The tank itself is a carefully sealed chamber, designed to contain an atmosphere of gaseous Antidote-X. It was specifically built for the transport of the Powerpuff Girls, who are quickly loaded inside before the Morbucks delayed emergency services arrive. The truck hits the gas, and quickly disappears into inner city traffic, Mushi and Morbucks riding along, while the Boys simply take to the sky.

Across the city, the doorbell rings at the residence of the heroic girls. Their truly single father hears the bell down in his laboratory, and sets his current experiment aside to answer the door. The bell continues to ring as the professor sets aside his experiment, climbs up the stairs, puts on a clean labcoat, crosses the hall, and opens the door. Waiting for him is a stone faced police offer with extremely bushy eyebrows and mustache, leaving little of his face visible. In addition, he was wearing a heavy, blue police overcoat. "Professor Utonium? It's about your daughters."

Concern and fear instantly became visible on Utonium's face. "What happened?" He asked, both frightened and mentally checklisting all the gadgets he has that might help him save his children.

"I think it'd be best if we spoke indoors." The officer stated, and the Professor quickly ushered him inside. The two adults are now standing in the living room of the house, the Professor waiting anxiously for the officer of the law to speak. The cop is looking ahead, his back to the worried father. "I'll be frank with you Professor: your daughters appear to have lost a fairly large fight down town, and now their locations are unknown." Before Utonium could respond, the cop quickly spoke. 'But don't worry: you're going to the same place they are."

The police officer suddenly spun around, his tazer lit and in hand. With a quick jab, he sent a wave of electricity through Professor Utonium's body, causing all of his muscles to lock up. The distinguished scientist hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Immediately afterwards, the police officer's coat was cast off, revealing the officer of the law to in fact be The Interesting Twins From Beneath The Mountain, utilizing another one of their near perfect human impersonation machines. A few uniformed children abruptly stormed into the house, and set about the task of carrying the adult out to their vehicle. The Twins meanwhile, locate the laboratory of the distinguished scientist. It takes them some time to subvert the various security systems, but as the last lock disengages, the armored door creeks open, revealing a treasure trove of technological brilliance to the twins and their cohorts.

"While the Professor is away..."

"...Our lab rats will play!"

* * *

Outside of Foster's (now vacant) Home for Imaginary Friends, Mac and Frankie trudge inside after a long day in the city, hanging up missing flyers for all the friends. Their initial efforts to report the mass kidnapping to the police had gotten them laughed out of the station ("Do we need to put out an all points bulletin for Imaginary Kidnappers then? I'll put my best Imaginary Police Officers on it."), and so it fell to the four remaining residents of the house to locate the friends.

Mister Herriman insisted the proper authorities be notified, and spent all his time on the phone, contacting increasingly important organizations, and constantly meeting with similar results to Mac and Frankie's visit to the police station. He was currently on the phone with an admiral of the Mongolian Navy, and next of his list was the Prince of Nigeria. Madam Foster, as soon as she had heard the news, put on an army helmet, got in her sports car and drove recklessly into the city.

The tired two entered the foyer, and felt a surge of sadness at how quiet the house was. Silently, they trudged their way to what they were informally calling "the evidence room." With so much space in the house now available, they'd started using a recreation room as a place to store the various clues they'd managed to gather. So far, it wasn't much: A few traffic updates reporting jams caused by the traveling carnival and some low quality photos Frankie managed to snap, but while they were out and about today, Frankie and Mac had talked to a few people who had seen the things as it traveled down the road, and collected two pages of notes. It was better then nothing.

The house so far had no signs of forced entry, nothing was out of place, and the pervasive silence of an empty building had remained. Imagine their surprise then, when Frankie and Mac found a teenage girl going over their collective evidence.

"You two are obviously amateurs, but I can tell you got dedication. A lot of people would have overlooked some of the minor stuff you got recorded here." She began saying, able to tell when they had entered despite having her back turned. "Or maybe you're just desperate and grasping at straws."

"Who are you? And how do you know about the friends?" asked Mac.

"And how did you get in our house?" added Frankie.

The girl, a tall, dark skinned teenager, flicked a dismissive glare at Mac before stepping towards the two. "You two can call me Cree. And I'm the girl who's going to help you solve this mystery."

A short while later, the two women were moving through a noisy junkyard, the sounds of excited humans and raging creatures filling the air. Mac had been told to stay at the house, and for good reason: The two were in the heart of the Extremasaurous fighting ring, which, unknown to many, is an organization directed by the Teen Ninjas.

"Ugh, this place is disgusting." mutters Frankie, doing her best to avoid contact with any member of the crowd they were moving through.

"What's the matter Frank? Ain't got the stomach for a little action?" Cree shot back mockingly.

"What they do to the friends here is barbaric!" Frankie hissed at her, angry, but trying to keep her voice low to avoid attention. "I don't know how anyone can stand it!"

"Frank, these ain't the cuddly baby friends you spend all day nursing back at that wackhouse of yours. These big guys are born fighters! They couldn't live without it!"

Frankie gritted her teeth, but did not respond. She did not trust Cree, at all, but so far she seemed like their best lead in locating the friends. Back at the house, she had handed over a large amount of traffic data that could be used to accurately trace the strange contraption (which is what Mac was working on, back at the house) before suggesting that this place is where the friends could have been taken, an idea Frankie had to admit made sense. Cree had also gotten her inside the fighting pit almost without effort: the guards took one look at her then ushered her in. While this contributed to Frankie's mistrust of Cree, it also confirmed her status as a valuable resource.

Cree abruptly came to a stop a short distance away from a wooden stand, which appeared to be the location for placing bets. The bookie was an usually skinny teenager in a stripped vest and straw hat, along with a mustache far too thick for someone his age, and he spoke rapidly and excitedly to all comers. His motor mouth came to a stop however, when he caught sight of Cree, standing with her arms folded, a smirk on her face. The bookie abruptly closed his stand, shooing away all gamblers, put on his most confident face, and sauntered over to his visitors.

"Ah, the beautiful and extremely dangerous Cree Lincoln, once again graces my humble arena." oozes a man who obviously never learned that subtlety is a key component of flattery. He flicked his eyes over to Frankie. "And I see you brought a friend."

Frankie made an exaggerated gagging gesture in response, while Cree gave a practiced smile. "So, what brings you here today? Business or pleasure? Of course, it's always a pleasure to do business with you."

Cree gave a deceptively sincere sounding giggle before responding. "Sorry baby, it's business today. Orders from the top. The VERY top."

Fear flashes across the book keeper's face as he remembers who Cree directly works for. "Right then, I think we should take this to my office. He lead the two over to a pair of already large trailer homes that had been fused together in an accident involving a giant magnet, then had a sign nailed on that read "Management." Once inside, the bookie removed his hat and mustache (revealing it to be a fake) and cast them on a coffee table. "BROTHER, I NEED YOU TO RUN THE STAND!" He yelled deeper into the trailer, before leading the two into a room with a door. Right as the dented metal plate of a door closed behind the three, the sound of another individual passing through the trailer could be heard. Everyone took a minute to get comfortable in the cramped space, and then they got started.

"So." asked the sole male in the room. "What can I do for you?"

"We're looking for a large group of abducted friends." Frankie stated accusingly, speaking before Cree was able to. "Know anything about that?"

"Friends?" The bookie scoffed. "My abrasive rose, my place of business does not deal in "friends." Only the mightiest of Extremasauros gain lodging here. If you're looking for a little sister's lost security blanket or something like that, I would recommend that tacky boarding house down the lane. Coasters, or whatever it is called."

"But have you heard of anyone trying to traffic a large group of friends?" Cree spoke up, batting her eyelashes. "After all, you're such a smart businessman, if anyone knows what's happening in this market, I'm sure it'd be you."

"You flatter me my dear, but I'm afraid I must profess ignorance in this matter." The bookie replied. "I believe that you may have misjudged the intentions of your mystery friend-nappers. If someone was selling a large amount of Imaginary beings, I would be the first to know. I've been in the market for some new blood ever since half my stock got conscripted."

"Conscripted?" Cree asked inquisitively, unsure of what he means.

The bookie is also confused by her confusion. "You didn't know? About a week ago, some creep shows up with several of..." his eyes dart over Frankie, and it suddenly hits him that she might not be a Teen Ninja. "...your sort of people, and tells us that they need half of my wards! When I asked them what for, they say it's top secret!" He throws up his hands, clearly exasperated at the memory. "I wanted to tell them to buzz off, but their... uh, references checked out. I didn't have a choice."

Frankie was growing more and more confused and suspicious at the odd way these two talked to each other. "What exactly made the guy a creep?" She asked with narrow eyes.

"Had this weirdo mask he never took off the whole time he was here. Blank white. Probably hiding some serious zits underneath." Cree shuddered for a moment, remembering her own encounter with acne. "Insisted on stepping into the ring with one of the gladiators before going. Something about testing them or something. I told him it was his funeral. So he steps in the ring, throws off his black jacket, and turns out his body has tons of tattoos. Some of the guys thought it was cool, but to me he just seemed like he was trying too hard to seem macho."

"I release my biggest guy at him and put down $50 bucks he won't last a minute. Crazy freak jumps off the walls of the arena and sticks him with some weird knife on his right wrist!" The bookie's voice became bitter. "Now my best fighter is out for three months, half my regular stock is gone, and I'm down fifty bucks!" He takes a second to compose himself, then addresses Cree. "So, yeah, I got no idea who took the ones you're looking for, but it'd put money on it being the same freak who took my guys. If you catch up to him, give him a kick in the gut for me, will ya?"

"Will do. Thanks for all your help." Cree replies, standing up and giving him a long hug, to Frankie's disgust. The two women depart from the junkyard fighting pit, Frankie speeding away as fast as she legally can.

"I need a shower after visiting that dump." Frankie states with disgust as Cree twiddles on a cell phone in one of the bus seats. "I can't believe you actually hugged that slimeball."

"A sister's gotta do what a sister's gotta do." Cree replied nonchalantly. "Best way I could think of to plant the bug on him?"

"What?" asked Frankie.

Cree remained silent, pressing a few more button on her phone, before the bus was filled with the noise of the bookie rattling off odds and taking bets. Another press of a button silenced the noise. "Now he's going to be looking for the guy we're looking for to sell him the knowledge that we're looking for him. Now that I've bugged him, he's looking for him for us."

Frankie was quiet for a moment. "Who are you?"

"At the moment? The only reliable lead you have on your friends. Let's keep it that way." Cree stated. The light they'd been stopped at then turned green, forcing Frankie to stay focus on the road, leaving the teen ninja uninterrupted to finish her text message.

THE NINJAS HAVE BEEN COMPROMISED.

* * *

Back at the Flynn-Fletcher house, the remaining three children (one of whom was now sporting a large black eye) were joined in the backyard by Candace. The family's pet platypus was conspicuously absent. "OK, we just got super lucky." the teenager informed. "Some guy with a mustache just showed up at the door and told my parents they just won tickets to an antique convention on the other side of the country, but they had to leave right away to catch the plane, and they left me in charge. If we get Phineas and Ferb back before they return, none of us get busted." She suddenly deflated somewhat. "I live a strange life when this isn't even the fifth most contrived thing to happen this summer." She took a deep breath, then addressed Buford. "So who are these Kids Next Door you were talking about?"

"They're pretty much what would happen if your brothers worked for the military-industrial complex." Buford began. "They've got gadgets like Dinnerbell's, but they're mostly weapons and they're built really cheaply. Once upon a time they tried to recruit my favorite nerd over there, but apparently he didn't want what they were selling, and things turned into a shouting match."

"Their ideology is significantly anti-authoritarian and anti-education. I desired no involvement with them, but they were insistent." Baljeet added in.

"That was when I walked in, and saw a bunch of weirdos in cardboard armor picking on my nerd, which nobody but me gets to do!" Buford continued. "So I gave 'em all wedgies and sent them running home. I even held one down and let Baljeet take a yank!"

"It was... interesting."

"So anyway, that was awhile ago, but apparently it was enough to get me on file as an "enemy of the Kids Next Door" and put on the mailing list of some other weirdos trying to destroy them. They offered me a big reward to snatch your brothers, I had Phineas build a tracking device so we know where they went, and now all we have to do is contact the Kids Next Door, sell them this data, and then they'll rescue those two for us!" Buford explained, outlining his master plan.

"So how do we contact these Kids Next Door?" Asked Candace excitedly, hopeful now that a solution had been thought up so quickly.

"Simple. We use the Universal Airwave Interface the two built last week." Buford replied, removing a high tech radio looking device from a box he had run off to retrieve while Candace talked to her parents. The machine in question could pick up and communicate with any wireless communication frequency on the planet: Phineas and Ferb built it to pick up their father's favorite radio show that was transmitted only in England. Buford set the device down on the grass, and a second later a bright green laser beam surged through the sky and turned it to scrap. "Well, I got nothing. Guess they're kidnapped forever. My bad."

"Actually, I may have a solution." Spoke up Isabella, who had remained in an uncharacteristic state of nervous silence ever since the Kids Next Door had become the topic of discussion. "What I'm going to tell you is top secret Fireside Girl information, that is supposed to be known solely by Troop Leaders. I'm only sharing this because it might save Phineas. All of you need to swear to keep this to yourselves." Everyone nodded, intrigued by her words and shocked by her demeanor's rapid turn to serious. "The Fireside Girls... are a rogue cell of the Kids Next Door."

All three of the listeners gasped in shock, but after a second Candace furrowed her brow. "Actually, that's not that surprising. That giant book of yours has sections on time travel and alligator wrestling!"

Isabella ignored Candace and began her story. "The greatest secret of The Loyal Sisterhood of the Fireside Girls is that our founder, Eliza M. Feyersied, was a KND operative, and a very skilled one at that. However, when an operative turns 13, all their memories of being in the KND are erased, under the belief that the now teenage operative will eventually betray the organization and take their information to either teenagers or adults. Eliza was terrified by the prospect of having her memories erased, but also couldn't bear the idea of betraying all the friends she made by defecting. So, she took at third option."

"As her 13th birthday drew near, Eliza labored long into the night, developing a machine that would provide her a way out. Two days before she was due to be decommissioned, her project was complete: A machine that could copy, store, and implant memories. How the machine was hidden so that the Kids Next Door did not find it, but she could after having her memories erased in known only by Miss Feyersied herself. When she became an adult, the Fireside Girls were founded so that Kids Next Door training could be taught to children who wouldn't be decommissioned, and would use the abilities for peaceful purposes." Isabella then frowned. "Miss Feyersied wanted to form a group that would train boys and girls, but knew that would attract too much attention. They already consider scout organizations fronts for adults to train children as counter-insurgents. We've had several operatives try to infiltrate us over the years."

"That's all very interesting and all, but how does this help me get my brothers back!?" Candace questioned impatiently.

"Every Fireside Girl lodge stores a secret collection of Kids Next Door technology and intelligence that either came from Eliza herself, or was acquired at a later date by a cunning troop leader. Maybe my lodge has something that can get us in contact with the KND. As much as I don't want to admit it, Buford's right. We DO need the KND to rescue Phineas. The Fireside Girls aren't trained or equipped for war the way they are."

"Alright! The Buford plan is making a comeback!"

...

"Candace, hold my hair bow."

* * *

Back at the treehouse where this entire affair started, the captured hall monitor had been sitting in his cell in silence for a week following his capture. He moved only when food was placed in front of him, eating slowly and mechanically. The five operatives were so far baffled.

Of course, a thorough, complete examination had not been performed yet, due to the large amount of missions Sector V had assigned recently. In response to the worldwide surge of activity, all sectors had been put on high alert, commanded to be ready at all hours of the day to respond rapidly to the latest raid. So far, Sector V has responded to 19 raids taking place in their zone of influence over the last week. The majority of them were over before the operatives even arrived, and the mission teams that were interrupted managed to beat a hasty retreat. While this has saved several gallons of soda, a junkyard full of scrap, and a munition depot's worth of 2x4 aircraft weaponry, it also means that the only one who could tell the KND anything about their enemies is the unresponsive boy in the cell.

At this moment in time, Sector V was experiencing a fortunate absence of missions, and most of the team was using the time to relax. Numbahs 1 and 5 however, were examining their prisoner through a one way mirror. "Numbah 5 would say he's Delightfulized, but that don't seem quite right. He would have tried escaping by now if that was all that was wrong with him."

"Agreed. We've already exposed him to bright flashes, so he's not a Delightfuloid either. Are we absolutely certain he's not a robot?" Numbah 1 asked.

"Hoagie gave him a full body scan. Kid doesn't even wear contact lenses." Numbah 5 responded. "Anyway, Numbah 5's headed back to the communications room. Gonna see if the airwaves got anything useful to say about this band of freaks."

"Understood Numbah 5. I'll be up shortly." The Sector V leader responded, before turning his gaze back to the silent prisoner. Underneath the glasses, his eyes conveyed confusion, fear, and determination as he stared inquisitively at the hall monitor's unadorned neck...

* * *

The first significant victory over this mysterious syndicate came during a dark and stormy night, outside of the sprawling X Middle School. Mysterious conspiracy low ranking henchkid Joe Balooka has disembarked from a spacious air vehicle alongside a number of kid agents in black suits and sunglasses. All of which wore sidearms designed from reverse engineered KND G.U.M.Z.O.O.K.A.s, designed to fire a single gumball at high speed with each pull of the trigger, instead of a steady stream of sugary projectiles.

The uniformed children walked from the landed aircraft, Joe in the lead, to where a large collection of colorfully clad child punks hang out around what seems to be a garage door. The leader of these delinquents, a massive, literally knuckle dragging borderline teenager who somehow styled his hair into an mohawk with a hole in it, stomps towards Joe, leering down at the top of his detective's fedora. "Ye got me payment, gov'na?" the massive child asks in a cockney accent.

"You got mine?" Joe asked back, as two of his agents roll up heavy suitcases, set them down and zip them open, revealing them to be stuffed to the brim with counterfeit trading cards. In response, one of the colorful gang members opens up a violin case to reveal a sleek looking, enormous, and fully automatic weapon. It's seemingly constructed by combining the body of a vacuum cleaner with a narrow metal straw on the end, with a handle, stock, grip and trigger added. A different gang member pulls a wooden box from his jacket and flips it open, revealing it to be stuffed with fresh spitballs.

"This little baby is equipped to fire slickback spitballs at a rapid rate. The reversed vacuum engine propels the soaking wads of paper, and the unique curves in the metal straw compensate for the accuracy loss typically created by saturating this type of ammo with so much spit. It takes 4 gallons of spit to fire this weapon for one minute." The leader described while handling the large weapon one handed. Joe looked on in appreciation.

"Alright, looks like we have a deal. The cards are yours once the rest of the stock is aboard my aircraft." Joe stated, after which the leader set the weapon down to retrieve a remote from his pocket. The button activated the garage door, which instead of revealing a sizable stockpile of the cutting edge weapons, instead revealed two other students: a bald, african-american child with glasses and a pale girl with black hair, both of them wearing the orange sash of the school safety patrol.

"Sorry guys, but your spitballs have just dried up." The boy remarked calmly, unfazed by the fact Joe and his suited agents all drew their weapons on him, while the local goons seemed intimidated.

"Hall monitor I'm guessing? Student patrol? Whatever your school choose to call it, you picked a bad day to remain a principled officer of student law." Joe taunted as he and his men inch towards the two, while the weapon suppliers seemed to be backing away slowly.

Once the two groups of crooks had inched together, the officer of the law raises a hand and snaps his fingers. "GO GO GO!" was heard as a huge number of KND operatives surge into the scene. A score of operatives rappel down from the school roofs, hitting the pavement in front of the combined criminals, while another group of operatives surge out of manholes and bushes, coming up behind the group, completing a solid circle of operatives and weapons that compel the collected criminals to throw down their weapons and get on the ground.

With the action over, the operatives signal for their airships to come in, and began the lengthy progress of cataloging the evidence begin. The head of the KND task force approaches the two local officers and extends his hand. "Officer Fillmore, Officer Third, I'm KND. I want to thank you again for contacting us about this. This weapons smuggler is a pretty big guy on our wanted list, and I get the feeling we'll be able to figure out the next step of some important master plans once we get him to talk."

"It was my pleasure." Responded Fillmore. "These guys were moving some heavy firepower, and I'm gonna admit, I was getting a little concerned once it was all focused on us. Thanks for helping me bring them in." As the KND officer walked away, Fillmore shouted to him, "Hey, if you ever run into an operative named Hoagie Gilligan, tell him to stay disco!"

* * *

A short distance away from the Sector V treehouse, a KND science team have set up in the stuffed animal cemetery. They've been dispatched as part of the effort to gain more intelligence on the mysterious world syndicate, with the objective of determining how the fallen pets began walking on that first night, and how this is related to the team of thieves that were chased into the resting place.

Although they had not discovered the hidden laboratory beneath the earth here, they have been able to document strange chemicals in the soil and physical abnormalities on the animals they had exhumed. This day had begun like any other, the nerds waking up, checking the machines that had been set to run over night, and setting in motion today's round of experiments, when they all stopped to listen to a strange sound that settled over the camp. It was the sound of buzzing, and it was growing ever louder.

Within a minute of the noise starting, a swarm of bees had descended upon the nerd's camp, throwing the researchers into a panic. The bees quickly drove the collective scientists out of the camp entirely, the driven cloud of bees chasing them all the way down the street. As quickly as the KND scientists were driven out though, a new group walked in.

There were five of them, an adult man in a bee keeper suit, another adult with a massive metal construct on his face, a young boy gripping a block of wood with a massive dart launcher on his back, and someone who seemed to be a teenager, but could be anything underneath the astronaut-like suit they had covering their entire body. The one at the head of this group makes the composition all the more bizarre: Former KND Soopreme Leader Chad, clad in full teen ninja battle ready armor. "Everyone grab all the data and test subjects you can find, on the double!" the teen yelled out, causing his group to disperse into the camp.

He watched their progress, as they bustled about grabbing everything of value. Eventually, his gaze shifted to the horizon, eventually settling on the Sector V treehouse in the distance. "You better be ready Nigel. A storm is coming, and you're right in its path."


End file.
